."

Mr Quelch, unaccustomed to claret, drank it as he would beer, and
before he had finished the second bottle, on the top of almost an equal
quantity of whisky, his head began to nod, and finally it dropped down
on the table, where he let it remain, completely overcome.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

I was describing, at the end of my last chapter, my uncle's uninvited
guest--Jonas Quelch--dead drunk, with his head on the table. I sat at
the further end of the room watching proceedings. Peter Crean gave a
well-satisfied nod, and then left the room. In a short time he returned
with Pat Brady, and a bundle of papers in his hand. Without much ado,
they commenced an examination of the pockets of the stranger, and
produced from them several documents. One of them, as Peter ran his
eyes over it, seemed to excite his excessive indignation. However,
producing one from among his own papers, of a similar size and
appearance, he sat down and wrote off several paragraphs, which seemed
to afford him and Pat infinite amusement. This, with some other papers,
which he had taken from the stranger's pockets, he then returned to
them. This done, he and Pat--having removed the provisions and jugs--
left the stranger still sleeping, with his head resting on his arms, as
before, I soon got tired of watching, and made my way into the
banqueting hall, from which shouts of boisterous merriment were
proceeding. His guests were, indeed, doing ample justice to my new
uncle's good cheer, and speeches and songs were succeeding each other in
rapid succession. Sometimes, indeed, two or three of the guests seemed
disposed to sing or speak at the same time, one exciting the other, and
adding not a little to the Babel of tongues. At this state of affairs
the ladies took their departure, though not without several gentlemen
rushing after them to bring them back. "Are ye after leaving us without
a sun in the firmament!" exclaimed one. "The stars are going out, and
we shall be in darkness presently," cried another. "A garden without
roses is a sorry garden, by my faith!" exclaimed a third. "What shall
we do without those beautiful eyes beaming out on us?" shouted a fourth.
However, in spite of the flatteries and efforts of Mr Tim Gillooly and
his companions--for he was among the most demonstrative of the party--
the ladies made their escape to an upper room. Curiosity at length
prompted me to go back and see what had become of the stranger. As